


Congo

by hafital



Category: Highlander: The Series
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2003-06-09
Updated: 2003-06-09
Packaged: 2017-10-28 03:56:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 935
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/303468
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hafital/pseuds/hafital
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Written for the Fifteen Minute Challange. Duncan and Methos go to the Congo.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Congo

"Tell me again why I'm on a plane headed for the African Congo?" MacLeod fidgeted in his seat, unable to get comfortable. He took his jacket off and leaned over to fix his pillow. He adjusted his seatback to a more suitable position. And then the footstool needed to be moved.

"Would you sit still already?" Methos spoke from behind the airline magazine. "I explained it all to you this morning. Don't you remember?"

"Jumping up and yelling ‘I've found it!' and ‘Pack your bags, we're going to Africa!' does not an explanation make. My headset's not working. Give me yours."

"No." Methos turned a page. "And I've only been searching for it day and night for about a month. It's all I've talked about, which you would know if you paid any attention."

"I pay attention," said MacLeod, affronted.

Silence. "Then why are we on a plane headed for the African Congo?"

Methos turned and looked at MacLeod, a challenge in his eyes.

MacLeod frowned. "Well, if you don't know, I certainly don't."

"You're impossible." Methos huffed and opened his magazine again.

"I'm impossible?! _I'm_ impossible?!" MacLeod raged, albeit quietly, lest he disturb his co-travelers in first class. Behind the magazine, he could see Methos struggling to hide a smile. Heh, gotcha, thought MacLeod.

"Do you mind? I'm trying to figure out what movie we're getting," said Methos.

MacLeod pursed his lips, then asked, "Can I please use your headset?"

"No. Go get your own."

"But you're not using yours," Mac said, in a justifying tone. He reached over and searched on Methos' side for his headset. Methos grabbed it back. A brief, violent, tug-of-war followed; the headset, in an act of survival, flew out of its plastic wrapping and hit the stout gentleman across the aisle squarely on the nose.

MacLeod blinked. "Now see what you've done." He glared at Methos.  "I'm sorry, Sir." He smiled an apology. The stout gentleman looked cautiously at them, handing back the errant headset with a fair degree of trepidation.

"What _I've_ done? That's it." Methos got up abruptly, the clink of his seatbelt punctuating his departure.

"Where're you going?" MacLeod asked, suddenly bereft.

"To the lavatory, for some peace and quiet."

MacLeod sat alone, smiling hesitantly at the looks and questioning stares from the other passengers. He looked anxiously at Methos who waited for a lavatory to open up. Just as the door opened, MacLeod rose quickly and...

"MacLeod!"

MacLeod squeezed into the tight space, closing the door and sliding the lock into its "Occupied" position.

"MacLeod, what are you doing?" Methos whispered desperately. "Get out!"

"Shh." MacLeod clapped his hand over Methos' mouth. He put his other arm around Methos, holding him close. Green-brown eyes glared at him; Mac smiled. Turning his head, he nuzzled just under Methos' ear.  Then the other side. Slowly, MacLeod lowered his hand, looking again into Methos' eyes, watching his expression shift and heat enter with a golden gleam. Fingers in his hair pulled him down and MacLeod pressed Methos against the counter, lips finding lips in a devouring kiss. MacLeod grunted and felt Methos' tongue slid against his.  Bruising kisses. Hungry and hard with want.

He banged his elbow against the door. Methos bumped his head. The air vent whirled, masking their heavy breathing. Something knocked up against the door. They paused; MacLeod held Methos close, arms wrapped around, mouth on the skin of his neck, breathing, biting softly. MacLeod heard the soft voices of the airline attendants.  Slowly, he opened Methos' pants, his hand sliding in.

"Look at me," he whispered into Methos' ear. Methos raised his eyes, wide with need. MacLeod watched as he stroked Methos, his hard length silken and smooth, watching the green-brown eyes darken and flame.

In desperate motions, he started tugging at Methos' pants. Methos shivered and turned around, spreading his legs.

MacLeod freed his cock, feeling with one hand at the opening to Methos' body, pushing one finger in. Methos' grunted, hands gripping the sides of the lavatory, head dropping down. MacLeod swallowed, feeling the cool slide of pre-cum down his cock.

Pausing for hand lotion, MacLeod took hold of his cock, slick in his hand, and pushed it in. The hot, tight grip of Methos' body encased him and he curled over, forehead against Methos' back.

He pulled out and back in, slowly. Then again, harder. Methos grunted. He looked back and MacLeod thrust in even harder, reaching for Methos and they kissed, straining.

He gripped Methos hard, fingers indenting, thrusting faster.  "Methos." A harsh whisper. A groan. MacLeod felt Methos come, tightening around him and he bit his lip, swallowing a yell as his orgasm ripped through him. 

***

Methos went back to his seat first. MacLeod walked through the aisle slowly, thanking all that was holy for the turbulence that hid his disorientation. He looked down at Methos as he crossed over him, smelling him; green-brown eyes looked up and cut right through him. MacLeod noticed a large quarter-sized bite mark blooming just under Methos' jaw-line. It was already fading.

MacLeod sat down, taking a moment to get comfortable.

Silence.

"So, all this way just for a book?" He smiled, touching Methos just where the bite mark disappeared.

Surprised eyes. "You do pay attention."

MacLeod chuckled, hoping Methos didn't ask him for the title. He lowered his chair, intending to sleep.  "And you doubted me."

Methos quirked his lips, his hand subtly reaching for Mac's. Fingers tangled together. Mac felt himself begin to drift off, his eyes closing.

A moment passed. Then, "It's a good book."

MacLeod smiled. 

***

the end.

 


End file.
